#thank you for listening if you made it this far

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #mw2 smut #ghost smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader smut #simon x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley cod

[feralgoblinqueen]

Silly Goose

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

MDNI please and thank you

Warnings: Dirty humor, mentions of masturbation, slightly dark humor if you squint.

A/N: Let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated since this is the first fic I’ve written and posted for others to read in years.

———

It started when you joined Task Force 141. Price had not considered adding another member to their already reputable team. At least, until your impressive file managed to come across his desk. Most notably the praises of former team and squad mates. You raised the morale of every company you joined as far back as your first deployment. Your previous CO could only sing your praises as Price sat and listened to him over the phone.

It was an easy decision to invite you into the team. It was confirmed to be the right decision a week later when he joined the four of you in the mess. You were in the middle of a story, the whole table captivated.

“So we had spent the last two weeks 40 clicks behind enemy lines. It should have felt like the return to civilization when we rejoined with the company. It didn’t.” Your hands punctuated your words, you were drawing in the attention of even those at surrounding tables.

“By the time we rendezvous with the rest of the company, our supply truck had been hit. Whole company on one meal a day until we could resupply with the rest of the Battalion. I knew my squad had hit its low. Everyone has lost their fight, they weren’t battle ready.” A big, easy smile splayed across your face. Price could feel the build up to the joke as he dug into his food. Him and the rest of the team remained quiet, waiting for what you would say next.

“Soap, what do you think Santa had in her magic rucksack?” You waggled your eyebrows. Their movement already earning a snort from Gaz. Price’s lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Uh… some extra MREs?” Soap was caught off guard by your question but you bounced right off, not drawing attention to his clumsy response.

“Close but no cigar. I’d packed my rucksack full of canned ravioli and porn mags. Nothing quite boosts morale like Chef Boyardee and a combat jack.” The corse words flew out of your mouth. It was evident that you’d served around men for a long time. The humor landing with the group of soldiers. Not only was your table laughing but those listening in around you as well. All except one man.

You had worked out years ago the quickest way to be welcomed by a group was to get them laughing. In school, in bootcamp, and with your newest team. Never making jokes about others or at their expense, that was your number one rule. Well number two rule. The number one rule was don’t eat yellow snow.

You easily joked about your own experiences or shortcomings. Joining the military meant you’d lived a lot of life. Life that was full of good and bad experiences. You made the best of them all and lived to make a joke out of it.

This was the first time in years, however, you’d met someone seemingly unaffected by your charm.

Ghost was stoic and cold. Eyes always watching you behind his balaclava, never showing the slightest hint of amusement. You worked overtime trying to get him to at least chuckle or to see his eyes to crinkle through the holes in his mask. Some sort of sign he at least smiled at your jokes. Any show of humor would do.

It was another meal in the mess hall when you tried again. Soap had mentioned some of the lieutenant’s deadpan and darker jokes. Maybe that was more Ghost’s sense of humor.

“So how are you still single? You’re a laugh a minute and you’re a good lookin lass?” Soap inquired, setting his tray down and taking the seat to your right. Ghost as across from you, shoveling food in where he had raised up his mask.

“Well I think it has to do with my line of work. You know how they say the surest way to a man’s heart is his stomach?” Soap noted the change in your posture. He’d picked up over the past few weeks how you sit up straighter if you were getting ready to go into another joke or funny story.

“Aye, I’ve heard that before.” He replied, a grin already forming on his face.

“Well I’ve found going through the ribcage is a lot faster.” You say pointed a finger gun at Ghost’s chest, as if to drive your point home. Soap sat for a beat before shaking his head.

“That was awful. LT, you been sharing your jokes with her?” He chuckled to himself, returning to the food on his tray.

Once again you stared Ghost down for the slightest tell. You searched his whole body for any sign of a laugh.

Disappointment grew in your gut as he finished his meal and left the table. You huffed, fork moving bits of food around your tray.

What if he just didn’t like you? That didn’t make sense though. Soap was a funny guy and Ghost got along with him just fine. Maybe it was more serious than that. Maybe he didn’t think you were needed on the team. They four of them had been working together for months before you entered the picture. Was it because you were a woman? You’d never had a negative interaction with him. He seemed immune to your banter.

“That face you’re makin’ is scary.” Soap nudged your side. A kind grin softening his features. You shook off your stress, shoving him back enough that his seat scooted.

“Sorry, that’s my default face while I’m waiting to receive more orders from the mothership. Mess hall interferes with the signal.” Humor was how you coped with everything. It’s how you deflected serious conversations. You knew you came off as simple minded and silly but you wouldn’t have risen this high in your career if that’s all there was.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal for you. One person not finding you funny shouldn’t eat at you the way Ghost’s reaction, or more so lack there of, did. You dwelled on it more than you were proud of. Some tender part in the deep recesses of your heart hurt to accept that he may simply not like you. That he only tolerated you professionally because his CO wanted you on the team.

As weeks went by the lieutenant’s response hadn’t changed. Any hope you had left that his reaction was just because you were new was dwindling fast. If only you would look for more than just amusement. You focused in on a sign of a singular emotion that you failed to notice all the others. But his team hadn’t missed it.

Captain Price was the first to notice the change in him. Ghost wasn’t one who usually socialized during meals, at least not on base. Since you joined, however, he’d taken more time eating. He joined in on conversations that weren’t just work related. Johnny noticed this and more, having more time to interact with Ghost than the captain.

Ghost’s eyes rarely leave you if you’re nearby. Upon approach he’ll act like he wasn’t watching you every move, usually picking up conversation with whoever he’s with or checking his watch. Soap had teased him for it on multiple occasions but Ghost always plays it off that he’s keeping an eye on how you’re adjusting.

No the team certainly hadn’t missed Simon’s big fat crush on their resident silly goose.

———

You sat on the couch of the AirBnB, watching Ghost talk on the phone with Captain Price. The two of you had been sent to observe a target who was fencing weapons for a terrorist organization. It had been a week and you had managed to find the opportunity to tap his phone calls and laptop. Besides that it was just a bunch of watching who comes and goes from his house across the street.

“Price is calling it. Nobody besides him has came or went from the house all week. We’ve planted our bugs so Lazwell can keep an eye on his digital footprint. There’s not much else for us to do here. We’ll leave at 0700 and no watch tonight.” Ghost announced, relaxing into the other end of the couch.

You nodded, turning your attention back to the TV. The only conversations you’d had the entire mission were work related. The voice of doubt in the back of your mind telling you that Ghost would only dislike you more if you tried the usual shenanigans without the buffer of the others around. The mission had kept you occupied but now that you had the night off that pit of anxiety deep in your gut came seeping back in.

You wanted to ease yourself by making a joke. You worked your bottom lip between your teeth. A normal person would make mundane conversation. Talk about the weather or ask if Ghost wanted to change the channel from the awful 90s sitcom. Anything to lift the awkward silence you felt.

Finally it came bursting out. You’d let your guard down just enough that the old habit slipped through.

“Hey Ghost, what’s red and bad for your teeth?”

You wanted to dig yourself into a hole. Of all the things to say, your brain spits out this joke. You expected silence or for him to tell you to knock it off.

His response was neither.

“I don’t know.” He gave you his full attention, looking up from his phone. Eyes already twinkling with amusement but you were too stressed to even notice. Suddenly the room was ten degrees warmer.

“A brick.” You waited for the silence. For an annoyed huff. You’d have to meet with Price and leave the team. Surely you’d never live this one down. Not when it was just you and Ghost alone.

A rich roar of laughter came from the other end of the couch. So much force behind it that your cushion shook. It didn’t last more than five seconds but you knew you’d remember that sound forever. Simon’s eyes creased so much from how big his grin was that they were almost closed.

You were in awe. You needed to hear it again.

“I thought you didn’t like my jokes.” You whispered, still in shock.

His eyebrows drew up in surprise. “You’re the funniest person I’ve met!”

You mouth open and shut not unlike a fish out of water. Confusion etched into every inch of your body.

“Then fucking laugh! Holy shit I thought you couldn’t stand me!” Relief washed over you like a warm shower after a long day.

Ghost laughed again, its warmth just as surprising this time as the last. You didn’t know when you got to your feet but now you were pacing. A barrage of emotions hit you all at once and you felt they might consume you if you sat still.

A large hand gripped your forearm, stopping you.

“When I’m on base, around those that aren’t my team, I keep up the image of ‘Ghost’. The mask, the stoicism, it’s all part of it.” He explained, turning you to face him.

A small, satisfactory smile crept onto your lips.

“So you’re telling me I just made ‘The Ghost’ laugh at a dumb joke I heard in elementary school?”

Ghost shook his head, hand releasing your wrist. His eyes were suddenly very gentle while he looked at you.

“No, you just made me laugh.” Hands pulled the balaclava over his head as he spoke. You froze, watching in awe. He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair before looking up at you. “Without the mask I’m just Simon.”

Your mouth acted faster than your brain, per usual. There was no time to stop the words that flew out.

“It’s so not fair that you get to be mysterious AND hot.” You slapped your hands over your mouth.

Simon laughed again. This time his expression in full view for you to see. Your embarrassment lost as you drank in the sight of him. Brown eyes crinkled with amusement and his pink lips grinning easily.

“So you think I’m hot?”

“Shut up, I think I’m working through the stages of shock right now.” Your sarcasm and humor on full autopilot as your brain worked overtime to process all this new information. Another laugh blessed your ears.

“I know how you can shut me up.” Simon smirked, eyes full of mirth as he leaned back into the couch.

“I’m sorry, did you just flirt with me? Let a girl catch her fucking breath for…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. Simon had pulled you down and captured your mouth with his. Your lips moved in time, tongue slipping into his mouth once you’d both relaxed.

When you pulled apart the two of you spent the night talking. Having conversations about everything and anything. And you made him laugh so much his sides hurt. He didn’t mind. It felt good to relax this fully with someone. He loved the way you’d light up as he laughed, wanting to keep that expression on your face.

And he would, as often as he could, for the rest of your lives.

#cod #cod mw2 #modern warfare #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #modern warefare 2 x reader #y/n #reader insert #reader imagine #cod imagine #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊

Mother Nature

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)

Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.

Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...

You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.

The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.

Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.

When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?

One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.

Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...

Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.

You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.

Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.

Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.

Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.

Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.

Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work.  Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.

The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.

Not you.

You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.

One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.

You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.

However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.

For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).

Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.

„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"

Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."

"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."

"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."

You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.

You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."

Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #xmen #x men #x men comics #x men the animated series #x men 97 #x men evolution #x men x reader #marvel #marvel x readre

[marlynnofmany]

Paws in a Circle

There’s a poster I saw once, back on Earth, that had a silhouette of a bear with deer antlers, and it was labeled “Beer.” I had forgotten about it completely until I met our newest client, who by that logic was definitely a beer.

I’d already done my part of the interaction by carrying out one of the heavier boxes, so while the captain went over the delivery fees with her, I was free to stare politely and decide which other Earth animals she resembled. (Fur coloring more like a red fox, and semi-upright posture that was less bear and more extinct giant ground sloth.)

I was so focused on watching the client handle the datapad with her giant paws that I completely missed it when the hovercar behind her sprung a fuel leak.

Paint saw it, though. “Oh! Your car!” she yelped, pointing. “I’ll get Mimi!” She was off in a flash of orange scales, back into the ship in search of our mechanic.

The client growled a swear word that didn’t translate, shoved the datapad back at Captain Sunlight, then galloped over to her car. While I expected her to throw open the hood in search of the part that was leaking, she instead made a beeline for the back seat.

When she threw open that door, I saw why.

“Kids! Out of the car! It’s not safe!”

A half dozen bundles of spotted yellow fur tumbled out, making distressed noises that didn’t need translating. They had tiny little antler buds and very big eyes.

Captain Sunlight was busy talking to someone through her communicator, probably Mimi. I stood there uselessly by the packages. What did I know about fuel leaks? Nothing helpful. I knew the puddle was growing by the second, and was probably flammable, but that was about it. And this backwater spaceport barely had an information booth, much less a local response team.

The client ushered her cubs over to where we stood just as Mimi and Paint returned. Blip and Blop followed with a big toolbox carried between them. Mimi was already taking charge and waving tentacles about, talking to the captain about the lack of reliable repair shops this far in the boonies, telling Blip and Blop how best to use their muscles in opening up the engine, and reassuring the customer that this was fine, actually, that model hovercar had a known issue with the fuel lines.

When the client dithered over minding her cubs and being present for the repairs, Captain Sunlight pointed a scaly yellow hand at me. “Our human can keep your little ones entertained. Bring them over here.”

“Uh,” I said.

Captain Sunlight looked up at me, still talking to the client. “She has extensive experience in tending to small furry creatures.”

I wanted to say that veterinarian training and childcare were two very different things, but I wasn’t about to make the captain look bad. And knowing Mimi, this would be quick.

The client said, “Thank you. Kids, you need to stay over here, okay? Next to these boxes, but don’t touch. Listen to the tall one. I’ll be right there helping fix the car.”

The tiny-voiced replies were recognizable words in the most common trade language, though their pronunciation made me clock them at around three or four years old in human years. They were very cute.

And they were suddenly my responsibility, all looking up at me like spotted teddy bears while the rest of the adults fretted about the car.

The questions were immediate.

“What are you?”

“Where’s your fur?”

“Did you lose it because you ate the wrong thing? Mommy says we have to eat our vi’mins so our fur doesn’t fall out.”

“Is this instead of fur?”

I freed the tiny paws tugging at my pants. “I’m not supposed to have fur. I’m a human. And yes, I wear clothes to keep me warm instead.”

“It looks funny.”

“Do you have to brush it?”

“Do you know any games?”

I brightened at that. “Games! Sure, I know some games.” I wracked my brain for something that would keep them entertained without causing new problems. “What kind of games do you like to play?”

They all answered at once in an avalanche of words, bouncing around in excitement, with a couple grabbing each other’s fur to keep from falling over. I couldn’t make out a thing they were saying. But I had the beginning of an idea.

“Do you like dancing in a circle?” I asked.

They had no idea what I was talking about, and possibly no understanding of basic shapes yet. Three of them spun in place while the others waved their arms.

“First you stand in a circle, like this,” I said, sketching out the shape in midair. “Here. You stand here, then you there…” With some gentle nudging — they were so soft — I soon had them arranged in something like a circle. “Now hold hands with the person next to you.”

I was a little concerned that their paws weren’t suited to this, since they had long blunt claws already and didn’t look very dexterous, but they managed. With lots of giggling and hopping in place.

“Now everybody step to the side, in this direction.” I ushered them into a clockwise rotation, nice and slow (and giggling), with no risk of any little fluffy heads bonking onto the spaceship landing pad. It took them a second, then they got the rhythm without tripping over their own feet.

Then they unanimously spun faster, hopping and laughing with squeals and barks that were probably making more than one adult turn to stare. I don’t know; I kept my eyes on the littles. My arms were out and ready in case somebody stumbled and brought the whole circle crashing down.

But no one did. The half dozen youngsters wheeled and spun, bouncing with glee and showing no sign of stopping.

“That’s new,” rumbled a voice behind me. I tried not to flinch when I looked up at the mama bear. Beer. Whatever. She asked, “Is that an activity from your planet?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Pretty basic, and it seemed good for kids.”

The antlered head nodded. “Looks like valuable practice at coordination, as well as teamwork. There are a few adults I know who could benefit from that.”

Images flashed through my head of huge antlered bear aliens doing ring-around-the-rosie as a corporate teambuilding exercise. And professional athletes trying to improve their footwork. “Yeah, they probably could. And it’s a fun bit of community bonding time.”

Mama Bear nodded. “Okay children, the car is fixed,” she announced. “Time to go home.”

The cubs made the exact same disappointed noises as human kids. Even when their mother waded in and picked them up one by one to urge them towards the car, they didn’t want to stop playing. They grabbed hands in pairs and spun off that way, even faster than before. I did have to catch one fuzzy little teddy toddler, who just laughed about it and hopped around some more.

Peripheral vision told me the rest of the crew was helping move the packages into the hovercar’s storage space and mop up the last of the fuel. Overheard conversation told me that the good captain had tactfully gotten us a bonus payment for the mechanical assistance. I couldn’t tell if childcare was part of that, and I didn’t ask. I just focused on herding the excitable youngsters back to their car, where thankfully they all knew how to get into the safety harnesses without help.

Mama Bear closed the door. “Thank you for everything,” she said, directing that at me as well as Captain Sunlight. “I will recommend your services highly to anyone who asks. And we will probably need more deliveries soon, once we get the new house set up, so perhaps we will see you again!”

Captain Sunlight nodded. “Perhaps so. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

I waved goodbye to the kids, who had found the button to open the window and were just as excitable as ever. “See you later! Maybe next time I can teach you the Hokey Pokey. That’s big on my planet.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #writeblr #writblr

[aimbutmiss]

"Finally, we have some alone time." Shanks sighed as he settled into the comfort of the expensive armchair, away from the intimidating presence of Crocodile and the judgemental eyes of Hawk Eye. It was a random decision, dropping by Cross Guild's headquarters. Of course he knew that two emperors meeting would draw the government's attention, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the spontaneous act as he stared at the lovely clown in front of him.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

"Huh?"

Buggy rolled his eyes at the red head's easily swayed attention. "I wouldn't be so sure that we are alone."

"... You think they're listening?" Shanks turned to the closed tent door in worry.

"No, I made them promise not to and they wouldn't break my trust like that. However... Croccy's really good at finding loopholes. I'm certain Daz is listening to us as we speak." He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Daz? If you're there can you please knock twice on the door?"

Silence.

"Ugh, come on. If your boss can use loopholes so can I. Did he specifically say you had to be discreet?"

After a short moment, two small knocks were heard.

"Thank you!" Buggy turned back to Shanks, lowering his voice to fit the casual conversation they were having. "See?"

Shanks scoffed in disdain. "I can't believe he trusts you so little."

"He trusts me just fine. It's you he doesn't trust. Rightfully so, may I add."

Shanks' shoulders sagged at the formal speech. It's like there was a thick, invisible wall between them, and it hurt too much to bear.

"Buggy... Come to the Red Force with me. We can at least have some privacy there."

Buggy shook his head. "Absolutely not. As much as I would love to see Benn and Lucky Roux, it's not worth it."

Shanks could have made a joke about him not including Yasopp but he was too confused by the rest of the statement to do so. "What do you mean it's 'not worth it'? Too lazy to walk to the shore now?" He asked jokingly but the worry was evident in his voice nonetheless.

"Of course it's not that, idiot. I just don't want to be alone with you in your own turf."

The room was dead silent but Shanks could swear he could hear his heart shattering. "You trust me that little?"

The clown sighed, already tired from where the conversation was heading. "Shanks, this isn't about trust. It's about letting go of the past."

"So you do not miss me?"

Buggy lips tightened to a thin line.

"Because I miss you."

"Wrong thing to say with someone listening in..." Buggy mumbled under his breath. "Croccy will throw you off the island at this rate and even Mihawk won't be able to stop him."

Shanks' brow twitched at hearing the stupid nickname again, dropping from the bluette's lips so casually. "He respects you two that little?"

"No, he respects us that much. He cares, in his own, weird way. He's a good man."

Shanks smirked at the ridiculous answer. "A good man? You truly believe that? I can see your lips curling you know."

Buggy rolled his eyes. "He's a good man to the people that matter. He's good to me, Shanks. And neither of us are saints you know."

"Even so-"

"I have fame, money and power... But more importantly I have people who care about me to share it with." Buggy cut him off before he could get another word in. "People who protect me and help me when I need it but never push me. People who treat me like their equals. And for once in my life, I'm truly happy. And you're upset that you're not a part of that happiness. To that I say; move on, Shanks. I have, so should you."

"..."

"It's better for the both of us really."

Shanks bounced his leg up and down restlessly as his thoughts became cloudy. If anyone would have told him 25 years ago that him and Buggy would be where they are, so close yet so far from each other, Shanks would have never believed them.

He thought of a million things to say, questions to ask, to beg, but he could only bring himself to say one thing. "If that's your wish."

Shanks got up and turned around to leave, but Buggy spoke up last minute. "I do care for you, you know. I always have."

It wasn't a love confession, not really, but it was the closest thing to it that Shanks would ever get. "I know."

He didn't quite care how rude or embarrassing it was to avoid Mihawk's eyes as he boarded the Red Force to leave Karai Bari, he just did it because he knew the man would instantly know from one look what had just transpired between him and Buggy. And he didn't want to give him and Crocodile the privilege of knowing they won. They would still know, of course, but at least Shanks kept his pride (in his heart, at least).

#hey guess who's back!! #I feel like I haven't written anything in forever #I just didn't have any inspiration :/ #god knows when I'll write again but this is certainly a start!! #also my comeback being me making shanks suffer again is very on brand #one piece #buggy the clown #cross guild #daz bones #shuggy #red haired shanks

[pomefioredove]

hiiii I would like to ask for headcanons for pomefiore when they discover that her s/o fem is actually an angel ~ but mc doesn't behave exactly like one, she is unruly, cheerful and doesn't like to follow orders even so she has this warm aura that radiates ksks I'm sorry if it's a complicated idea, that's all, thanks in advance

since this page is for gender neutral reader only, I'll be writing for that. I use you/yours pronouns so essentially nothing changes :) thank you!

I feel woefully unprepared to tackle the idea of what it means to be an angel, assuming this is the loose pop culture-y definition rather than a specific religious one, I hope I do alright?

summary: angel s/o type of post: headcanons characters: vil, rook, epel additional info: short, romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, established relationship

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭

there are two clear, distinct sides to you:

the elegant, radiant, otherworldly one, that of which captured his attention in the first place

and the unruly one which doesn't care to listen to a thing he says

it was, perhaps, your potential that drew Vil to you. after all, he'd never met anyone with such a distinct... glow

...as in, an actual glow

he'd truly never come across such a powerful force of energy, and for a while, he was determined to mold it in his image

obviously, that didn't get him very far

if anything, finding out the truth made him feel a little bit better about his inability to tame you, so to speak

the reality of knowing he'd have to mold to fit you is a daunting one, though perhaps it's you who has a thing or two to teach him about beauty

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

he already knows

"what do you mean he already know?" he already knows

Rook isn't being poetic or figurative when he calls you his ange

from the very first moment he set eyes on you, he knew something was quite different

the sort of beauty you possess is one he's never encountered before, something not of this world

it's purely radiant, warm, captivating

of course he has to know more about it

over time, he finds himself enthralled by your personality, as well

it so starkly contrasts your elegant and gentle look, does it not?

you're unruly, upbeat, almost wild, in a sense, which only serves to draw him in further

a mystery he aims to solve

𝐄𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫

okay

so... maybe he's been a little oblivious

he could never quite seem to understand the strange looks and comments Vil and Rook kept making about his s/o, why they continued to stare as if you'd grown two heads

you're pretty, sure, anyone can see that!

it was that sense of grace and warmth that drew Epel closer in the first place

but were you really such a sight that his housewarden (and vice) felt the need to give each other odd looks every time you were in the room together?

it almost made him feel insecure, even though you'd chosen him

besides, Vil was always commenting on how you two were peas in a pod; completely resistant to authority, running wild like animals

so, the big reveal comes as a surprise to him

...but also a relief

and he's honestly pretty okay with it

might be a little intimidated at first, but... it's still you

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #queued #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #didn't expect to get so into epel's part tbh

[amethystpath-writes]

Spare Him

Hello :) Could you do something where the hero and villain were lovers but the villain betrayed the hero somehow and now it’s super angsty and the hero is begging so hard for the villain to not do whatever they’re going to do (maybe getting on their knees to beg too, who knows) and it’s just SUPER ANGSTY :)) Sorry for the long ask, thank you very much and I love your writing!

A/N: As promised, although I feel like I filled this request before, here it is! Thank you for the kind words :)

******

"Why are you here?" Villain's tone was bored and cutting. Hero missed his tone before; soft, like a caress or a smooth fur blanket that Hero couldn't wait to curl into at the end of the day.

"Do they trust you?" Hero asked, and though she had just arrived, she thought she manipulated the situation so well. This was until Villain smiled, his lips splitting ever so slightly to reveal his sharp teeth. Hero never found them fitting until now as she stood below his pedestal.

There was unspoken conversation between the two of them, and Hero felt humiliated, even though Villain was the only person who understood. He had betrayed her and it hurt to say the very least.

Villain remained silent, and Hero knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her to keep talking, to keep asking questions, and to keep digging her own hole further into the ground at the face of his Council. They were lined up on either side of the throne room, surrounding her as she stood in front of Villain.

She obliged Villain's unspoken request. Hero would embarrass herself if it meant stopping him and his traitorous doings. "What are you doing this for?" She didn't want to say too much, didn't want to say something she would regret. Did his council know who stood before them aside from their own king?

"Elaborate."

But Hero couldn't, and Villain knew that. He knew who she was and why she was here even if she wouldn't state it aloud. He was playing a game with her, but this was dire to her.

Her hands were shaking. "I would like to request a private audience with you." The guard behind her held back a laugh; she could tell by the hot air on the back of her neck. It made her all too aware of how close he was standing. His presence was less threatening, however, than Villain's.

"It sounds as though you trust yourself less than me. You can't speak your mind in front of my council?" He raised a brow and gestured to the grandiose of the room, how everyone was listening, waiting to see why she had shown up- this girl who was alone in front of a king, and too afraid to speak.

Villain tapped his fingers against the arm of his throne. He still bore that half-amused smile. It made Hero's stomach churn, and for a moment, she had to stop herself from crying. His smile widened as if he could see the halted tears in her waterline.

However, his smile fell away in another moment, when he rolled his eyes, seemingly tired of his own game. As Hero concentrated on Villain's eyes, she realized they were no longer focused on her, and instead focused behind her. The guard. "Take her away."

"Villain, wait!" Still, a hand remained on her shoulder. Villain held a hand up and nodded. The hand slid away, but in its place, a weight held her down.

Hero was afraid. She was alive, and as great as it was, she half-expected to be killed when she walked in. It was part of Villain's plan; she was certain given his betrayal. She squeezed her eyes shut thinking about it, gave herself a moment to regain her composure.

The plan was to make a bargain, but not believing she would make it this far, Hero had no bargaining chip- only a plea.

"You killed my brother"- her head twitched and she recoiled at her own memory. Villain. Sword. Brother. Blood...She couldn't finish her request.

"And what? You took it personally?" He tilted his head at her, remarking her as though she were a curiosity, not as someone who he had ever loved, cherished, or betrayed. Villain's lips came to a satisfied close as his council snickered and jeered at Hero from their seats.

"I came to ask you a favor." Her chest was hurting, swelling with the thought of her request. She felt herself swallowing as she heard her own breaths, too loud in her own head. Villain's fingers tapping against his throne didn't help. "I know you plan to kill my last brother. I am sure you have planned to kill me, as well. While I don't ask for you to spare me, I ask that you spare him."

She paused for the briefest moment. Hero couldn't take her eyes off of Villain's hand, its incessant tapping. It reminded her of two things.

It reminded her of humid nights when she and Villain knew the guards in her homeland wouldn't be on standby due to the mugginess outside. They would go off into the woods, find a clearing, and lay down, then peak at the stars through the foliage. Villain would wrap an arm through her own and drum against it with his fingers. They felt warm, always warm.

The tapping reminded her of another moment, one more sinister. Her brother was a good man; he was going to make an even greater king. He would take his armor off, beat it into a sheet, and lay it on the ground for anyone if there were a puddle. And if that weren't enough, he'd walk away and let the armor become a bridge so that no one faced the puddle again. Oftentimes, he didn't wear his armor, and Hero scolded him for it. There was no scolding him as Villain killed him. Hero could hear her own screams echoing back to her now.

Though these memories happened over a course of years, they flashed across her eyes in a moment. She begged Villain, "Please let my last brother live."

"Speak up."

Hero could only close her eyes and bite her tongue. What she wanted to do, what she wish she had to capability to do, was to scream at Villain. Curse him for the love he gave and the terror he committed after- during. Hero would have never imagined Villain would betray her, would kill her brother in a passing moment.

It was a duel. It was meant to be a duel. But Villain grabbed her brother's shoulder so ferociously, so intently as he pushed his sword.

'First blood?'

Hero had been happy that Villain and her brother got along. Hero could still hear her brother's sword bouncing off the ground as he bled into Villain's chest.

'How about first one to stumble?'

Her brother didn't enjoy fighting and would only swing his sword while training. Hero was shocked he agreed to duel Villain.

And Villain held her cheek afterwards, fingers coated in blood. He told her that he would be leaving now. A brisk murder and an even swifter absence.

"Hero."

A knot formed in her stomach as her attention was recaptured. Villain stood in front of her, and his hand was reaching towards her cheek. Her chest shook with sobs as his hand touched her skin, and it was soft.

"Don't," she said, and she spoke quietly so that no one else could hear, save Villain, and maybe the guard if he were still behind her.

"What would you do?"

Hero hadn't realized she pushed her cheek further into his hand until she was looking up to meet his gaze. Did his love always look like curiosity? Had she been mistaking him all along?

"For my brother?" she asked, and waited for his single nod. "Anything."

He hummed, and his closed lips lifted into a gentle smirk. His thumb ran across her cheek bone, and Hero clenched her jaw. "Your life for his. On your knees."

Her chest quaked again and she swallowed. Without thinking, she dropped. "How will I know you won't kill him?"

It was in the next moment that she knew the guard was still behind her because his sword came to rest on her shoulder. The edge of the blade touched her neck and Hero found herself turning away from it.

"Because you will be alive to stop me should I try."

Looking up, Hero found the same grin Villain wore before as he shoved his sword through her brother. "I want you to kneel there and beg me to marry you." His voice was loud enough for all to hear, and the Council even began shifting in their seats, leaning forward, straightening their spines for a better look.

"Marry you?"

His eyes darted up, and in the same moment they found Hero's again, she felt the blade sink in just a little further. "Villain, please..." ...don't make me do this.

"Continue."

She tried to adjust her shoulder, to make the blade fall, but the guard just pushed it further than before. It took everything not to push it away with a hand. If her arms left her side, she knew the guard wouldn't hesitate to harm her. So she clenched her fists instead. Her breathing was perhaps the least controlled aspect.

"You want to save your brother, don't you?"

"Villain." She couldn't do this. She couldn't-

"Three," he began, "two..."

The back of her head was pounding and her heart was throbbing, beating against her chest like it needed an out as much as she did. Chills spiraled up and down her arms and neck. She shuddered.

"One. Take her outside. I will be there shortly." Villain turned his back and began walking towards his throne once again.

Hero felt the sword cut into her neck as the guard slid it away. She winced and her back caved as she felt relief. Tears streamed down her face and for a minute she thought she was in the clear. Villain let her live.

But the realization hit as quickly as the relief. He would kill her in the public's eye to prove a point. The chills resurfaced, and as she was pulled from the ground onto her kicking feet, Hero screamed, "Villain, no! Please. Let me marry you. Let me be your queen and I will never look back at home or my brothers or anything that you have done. Please, Villain. Let me save my brother."

The room erupted in short snorts and satisfied chuckles. Villain hushed them with a hand before circling back to Hero. His steps were off-beat from the beating of her heart; it made Hero's head spin faster than the memories she relived just minutes ago. Had it only been minutes?

"Tomorrow. You become my queen, and your kingdom receives no word of it. You will not speak to them, and you will not speak of them. Let go of her." This last part was said to the guard, and so he did. Hero was once again a slump on the ground. Villain leaned down to her, and grabbed her arm before yanking her forward. She winced as his lips touched her ear, but she released a breath as he whispered, "There's something you need to know. Follow along."

******

#not a pr0mpt #Spare Him #request fill #hero x villain #hero x villain story #hero x villain drabble #hero x villain snippet #hero #villain #heroes and villains #creative writing #writeblr #lovers to enemies #royal villain #ask and answer #short story #forced marriage #betrayal

[louisupdates]

[Translated from Portuguese]

Louis Tomlinson shows that he is much more than an ex-boyband

Text: Ygor Monroe May 12, 2024

British singer Louis Tomlinson, former member of the iconic band One Direction, landed in Brazil with his long-awaited "Faith In The Future World Tour", providing fans with a more mature experience on the stage of Allianz Parque, last night (11). In front of a fervent audience, the singer was acclaimed at every moment of the show, witnessing the support of his admirers.

In a moment of emotional introspection, Louis expressed his gratitude, emphasizing the lack of support in his solo journey "I don't have a radio. None of that. I don't have radio support. Look at this place! It's unbelievable. I made these albums specifically thinking about the live moments. But I've never anticipated places of this size. Listen to the FITF songs and feel your support in this huge place, I have no words. I'm trying to find them. Thank you, thank you, thank you," said the singer.

[Louis Tomlinson during a show at Allianz Parque in São Paulo | Photo: Move Concerts/Disclosure]

The "Faith In The Future World Tour" tour is one of the singer's most ambitious projects, and is part of the work explored on the album of the same name released in November 2022. Throughout the show, both the singer and his band demonstrated extreme mastery and resourcefulness, in addition to a very mature instrumental technique in relation to his last world tour.

The comparison between his previous visit to Brazil in 2022, and the recent show revealed a significant change in the composition of the audience, now more mature and aligned with the thematic depth of the singer's songs. Far from being just a teenage nostalgia, Louis now positions himself as an artist who challenges the limits of conventional pop, embracing an alternative aesthetic that manifested itself even in covers of renowned bands, such as Arctic Monkeys.

The grandeur of the show was amplified by the imposing stage structure, full of big screens and special effects, while the interactivity with the fans reached an emotional peak on the catwalk that extended as a second stage. The singer, with his usual shyness and charisma, did not hesitate to come down to hug some fans, sharing intimate moments and revealing the special connection he has with Brazil.

The show also featured the charismatic Europeans of the band Giant Rooks, from Hamm, Germany, founded in 2014. In 2019, they won the 1Live Krone Award and the Preis für Popkultur. Their debut album, "Rookery", was released on August 28, 2020. The band even did a show that left everyone impressed, and without a doubt it is one of the bands for the festivals of our circuit to keep an eye on.

In the final balance, our dear "ex-One Direction" no longer lives in the shadow of his past. Even respecting and reflecting a lot about him in his future, the singer has resourcefulness, maturity and mastery of everything he does on stage. With a more shy but charismatic tone, the "Faith In The Future World Tour" was a key change for the new era of the singer, which becomes more promising with each passing day.

Louis Tomlinson, FITFWT24: São Paulo [11.5.2024]

#fitfwt24: são paulo #louis tomlinson #11.5.2024 #louis press #Louis review

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2024 Round-Up Post | Week 2

On Sundays during our posting period, we won't post a new work, instead you have time to catch up with the works that posted during the week and hopefully leave lovely comments for our creators.

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Please share far and wide! Thank you!!

***

Podfic

***

"As You Wish" by Pineau_noir

Prompt: "The Princess Bride", 1987, Rob Reiner Written by: Pineau_noir Narrated by: Anonymous Podfic Length: 02:31:28 Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead.

Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Listen to it now on AO3.

***

Fic

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first, she fell

Prompt: "Anatomy of a Fall", 2023, Justine Triet Prompted by: @wolfpants Author: Anonymous Word Count: 1,648 words Rating: Mature Warnings: angst, referenced character death, open ending, referenced adultery, speculated murder

Summary: Harry's wife is dead. No one knows quite what that means.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Caribou Garden

Prompt: Nature Documentaries (genre, any year) Prompted by: @meandminniemcg Author: Anonymous Word Count: 2,641 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Alone with his swotty, posh, nemesis-turned-colleague on an uninhabited island in the far north, cinematographer Harry Potter grapples with his inconvenient crush. A nature documentary-inspired fic with magical caribou migrations, dramatic landscapes, and only one tent.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Twin Blades

Prompt: “Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith”, 2005, George Lucas Author: Anonymous Word Count: 3,525 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: lightsaber combat, nightmares

Summary: Harry advances a few steps toward Draco, who doesn’t move, only watches him approach with narrowed eyes. “If you’re so sure the Jedi have no power, duel me. If you win, your master will be proud of you.” Draco’s eyes glitter. “And if you win?” “We’ll find out, won’t we?” Harry raises his lightsaber, readies himself. “Come on.” Without another word, Draco lunges at him.

Or, a Drarry-flavored reskin of the battle on Mustafar.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Prompt: "Mamma Mia", 2008, Phyllida Lloyd Prompted by: @Azulaschild Author: Anonymous Word Count: 11,378 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: sex while on drugs, drinking

Summary: Recently-divorced Harry returns to Serenity Commune, site of his wildest youthful romps and the beginning of his recovery from trauma, to get out of a rut (and because Hermione made him). Unfortunately, sex, drugs, and dancing aren't all that await - he'll have to confront his past and what life might have been.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Leap Year

Prompt: "Leap Year", 2010, Anand Tucker Prompted by: @DrarryMyHeart Author: Anonymous Word Count: 29,064 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None apply.

Summary: Draco Malfoy has come a long way. He has a successful business and a muggle-born high-flyer boyfriend.

One tiny thing - it's been four years and he has no ring. No matter, he'll take things into his own hands. Feb 29th is an Irish muggle tradition that he'll happily jump on. Archie (boyfriend) is in Ireland - he'll simply portkey over and pop the question.

One (LARGE) problem. The portkey office messed up and he's landed outside Harry Potter's pub.

The same Harry Potter that hasn't been seen for ten years.

*Big sigh.

Read it now on AO3.

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Runaway Groom

Prompt: "Runaway Bride," 1999, Garry Marshall Prompted by: @elskanellis Author: Anonymous Word Count: 30,044 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Arranged marriage (not between Harry and Draco), Infidelity if you squint (not between Harry and Draco)

Summary: OK, so Draco's feeling so nervous about his upcoming wedding to his fiancée Astoria Greengrass that he could faint. That's one of the pitfalls of an arranged marriage, right? Just because he's run out of his past three weddings, doesn't mean this one won't go ahead. He just has to keep his eyes on the finishing line, and ignore the sudden reappearance of Harry Potter, who seems to be determined to turn his world upside down. Again.

Read it now on AO3.

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Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

Prompt: "Thelma and Louise", 1991, Ridley Scott Author: Anonymous Word Count: 33,335 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator chose not to use Archive Warnings

Summary: Harry is disillusioned with the Aurors, his relationship with Ginny, and is tired of all the hero worship but feels trapped. Draco, still hated by the Wizarding world, decides to get away and shares his plan with Harry, his only friend. Harry jumps at the chance to go with him.

They share in the freedom of their adventure, but things don’t go according to plan. Amidst their misfortunes, they discover new talents, courage in the face of tragedy, and above all, love.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Romancing the Dragon

Prompt: "Romancing the Stone", 1984, Robert Zemeckis Prompted by: Anonymous Author: Anonymous Word Count: 34,382 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Action movie typical violence

Summary: Harry Potter writes romance novels from the comfort of his London townhouse, with the assistance of his beloved cat, Juliet. He does not engage in rescue missions, talk to dragons, or develop feelings for Draco Malfoy. That would be absurd.

Read it now on AO3.

***

Please help promote the fest by sharing your favourite submissions, so more people can enjoy all the amazing new Drarry works of LCDrarry. Thank you!

Creator reveals are on 15 June.

#lcdrarry 2024 #lights camera drarry 2024 #lights camera drarry #lcdrarry #drarry #drarry squad #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry fanfic #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #hpdm #harco #dmhp #harry potter fanfic #drarry podfic #hp podfic #drarry fanart #drarry art #hp art #hp fic recs #drarry fic recs #drarry crossover #enjoy!! :)) #lcdrarry roundup post

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You (AU)

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: What if the fall of the Ministry didn’t interrupt the wedding? For @pearlsofme

A/N: A fun smutty little AU for Before I Knew You based off this conversation, taking place during Part Five. A big thank you to the anon who started it off and to Riele for encouraging me always 💕 Sorry it’s not an official update!

Warnings: 18+, smut, unedited, AU. Minors DNI.

It was several dances later when your legs begged for a break. Muriel seemed distracted far on the opposite side of the tent, talking the ear off some poor soul she'd cornered, but Bill guided you along a longer route around the dance floor to avoid falling into her line of sight. Hagrid's drunken voice had fallen silent, though his snores echoed nearly as loud as the music. Everyone had decided to take a break from dancing. Luna had joined the table, leaving only a single vacant seat.

Fred smiled up at you with glazed over eyes. He pushed his chair back and patted his lap. "Need a seat, love?"

Bill’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Don’t be gross,” Ginny chastised.

He swirled his wand over his head. “I was just offering to summon a chair,” he said, as one nearly crashed against your legs. “What did you think I meant?”

Ginny rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on Luna.

Bill dragged you and the chair to the other side of the table. Charlie said something as you sat between him and his older brother, but considering it was in a language you didn’t speak you couldn’t understand what. Bill, however, could and replied equally incomprehensibly. You listened to the back and forth until Bill seemed to end the conversation. He didn’t sound happy.

“Everything alright?”

He nodded, thumb dragging across the back of the hand he still held. “Fred’s never been great at holding his liquor. Or his tongue.”

“Oh,” is all you add. There’s a lot worse innuendos he’s made sober, but you don’t think Bill would want to hear that at the moment. “What language was that?”

“Arabic.”

He continued to hold your hand as he explained how he’d ended up learning Arabic while working in Egypt. Charlie had learned it from some coworkers in Romania. He butt in to add that he’d learned a total of six languages while in Romania. Seven if you counted reading a dragon’s body language.

It’s easy to talk to Bill. Easy to smile and laugh. Easy to lean into him. Easy to let his hold on your hand become a hold on your thigh.

You blinked and the party appeared nearly over. Half the guests gone, the other half milling about subdued either by fatigue or a large quantity of liquor. The older women scooped up the centerpieces. Charlie had gone off somewhere. Ginny had gravitated towards a disguised Harry. The twins had been tasked with helping get Hagrid back to the tent he’d set up the night before, something that was taking far longer than they’d planned.

The happy couple stopped at the table to say their final goodbye. Bill’s hand didn’t move despite the raised brow Tonks gave him. You felt the heat on your face when she left you with a wink.

“You alright?” he asked, thumb drawing circles on your thigh.

“Yeah, just,” you swallowed hard, trying not to waver in your resolve, “everyone might be back soon. Think we oughta call it a night and head up to bed.”

His hand retreated immediately. “Right, yeah, right, of course.”

God, how bad at this were you? “Together?” It sounded more like a question than the statement you’d meant to make it.

“Together?”

His echoing of the question made your embarrassment far worse. Had you misread it all? “I mean—only if you—I thought—” You floundered. His laugh made you want to bury your head in sand.

“Take a breath, love.” His voice dropped as he leaned in closer, hand back on your thigh rising  up. “I want nothing more than to head up…together.” His breath stuttered when your legs widened on instinct. “Head on up, yeah? I, uh, need a minute.” With a final squeeze, his hand retreated and he sat back. The large bulge in his pants had your mind reeling.

The trek back to the Burrow was short. You were nearly to the door when you were thwarted.

“There you are dear!” Molly seemed to appear from nowhere. Trapped, you stood there and listened as she went on and on and on about the wedding. How grateful she had been for your help, how nice you looked into your dress, how kind it was of you to keep Bill company, how happy Remus seemed. “I didn’t think keeping the party would be a good idea, but Bill insisted. He’s such a good boy, so caring. I know he was hurting and he still put on a smile for his friends.”

Your stomach sank.

“For the best it was, I suppose. Tonks looked wonderful, didn’t she?”

“Beautiful,” Bill confirmed from behind you. You’d been standing there too long. His hand found the small of your back, fingers spread wide. “Thought you were off to bed?”

“Oh, dear I’m sorry!” Molly intoned. “Didn’t mean to keep you from bed. Go, go,” she waved you off, “Bill be a dear and make sure she gets to bed. Godric knows your brothers would try to pull one of their tricks. Why they can’t be more gentlemanly like you and Charlie...”

Bill didn’t need further instruction. He pushed you forward, through the door, and up the steps. Out of earshot, he let out a laugh. “She’s worried about the wrong brothers.” His hand slipped down your back and patted your ass. It stayed there until you reached your door. It was already slightly open. He pushed it open to reveal Charlie passed out on your bed with his shoes still on, hanging over the edge. With a flick of Bill’s wand, the lights extinguished, the curtains pulled closed, and the blanket slid around the sleeping man.

“Guess it’s my room then.”

You barely covered your mouth in time to tamp down a squeal as he lifted you and threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You’d have to remember to add inhuman strength to the list of side effects of non-lunar werewolf scratches. “Bill,” you hissed, clinging to his back while he climbed the stairs, “someone could see.”

The door opened with a creak. “Should be more worried about them hearing us.” He let you down when the door closed, but he didn’t let you go far. Back pressed against the door, you’re forced to turn your head up to look at him. Something in your expression made his smile pause. “You sure you want this?”

Your hand rested on his chest. “Yeah. You?” Beneath your touch, you felt the conformation ease the tightness in his chest.

“Since the moment I saw you.” He let his hold find your waist. “In the dress,” is added as an afterthought. He crushed you with a kiss, leaving you incapable of more thought. He’s demanding, rough. Experienced in a way you aren’t. Your hands trembled. “Too much?” he asked, pulling away.

You gripped his jacket and tugged him back. “No.”

A hand ran up your leg, discarded your wand, and continued beneath your skirt. He hummed his appreciation against your lips when his fingers found the drenched fabric. "So wet." The tip of his finger traced along the hem and pushed under the fabric. You whined, head knocked against the wood, eyes closed, as his finger slid across your clit. "Bill..."

"Say it again." His finger pressed hard little circles.

“Bill.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his free hand working the front of his pants. He pushed them down, letting his cock free. The weight bounced against your stomach.

Your head snapped down.

“Like what you see?”

Cillian hadn’t seemed small at the time, but comparatively, “It’s bigger than I’m used to.”

Bill chuckled and kissed you. “Sure know how to feed a guy’s ego, don’t you?” The same hand found its way to your ass and lifted you with ease. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

You did, hooking your ankles behind his back.

The hand between your legs departed. He used it to guide himself along your slit. “So fucking wet.”With a roll of his hips, his cock pushed its way in. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. Slowly, he sunk deeper. The stretch burned pleasantly. When he found resistance, his hands found your hip and tilted them to let his cock reach deeper.

You couldn't stop the cry that tore from your lips.

"Shhh." He kissed the corner of your mouth, his hips setting a rhythm. "Don't want the whole house to hear, do you?"

You buried your head in his neck. The pace was steady, each thrust deep and slow. You couldn’t keep completely quiet. Not when you felt his cock rubbing along every inch. He wasn't much better. His groans vibrated in his chest and rumbled against your head.

"You feel so good," he mumbled. "Better than I imagined. Fucking perfect." He shifted, snaking one arm under you to keep you up and the other slipping back between you. His fingers found your clit again.

"You feel so good," he mumbled. "Better than I imagined. Fucking perfect." He shifted, snaking one arm under you to keep you up and the other slipping back between you. His fingers found your clit again.

"Bill," you breathed, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Close, love?"

You nod, eyes squeezed shut, legs squeezing tighter around him.

"Need to feel you cum. Can you do that for me? Cum all over my cock?"

Your response was another moan of his name.

“That’s it, love, just like that.”

Your body willingly obliged, clinging breathlessly  to him as you came undone. A low groan tore from his throat as you spasmed around him. He slowed to a stop as you came down from the peak.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Do you need a minute or?”

“I’m good,” you managed to say. He was still hard, rocking into you with more patience than you could have mustered. You pulsed around him, causing him his pace to falter for a moment.

Air swirled around you. Your back met the bed. Bill hovered above you, cock still inside, hands planted on either side of your head. “I’m trying to last, love, but if you keep squeezing me like that…”

A wicked grin pulled at your lips. “Like this?”

His eyes shut with a growl. “Brat.”

You did it again.

His hips slammed forward, knocking the breath from your lungs. One hand gathered your wrists and pinned them above your head. The other wrapped around a leg and lifted it for a better angle. Gone were the gentle, slow strokes. Each thrust was sharp and unrestrained.

He found your clit again. His kiss swallowed your cry of his name. Pleasure coursed through you again. The unexpected intensity had your toes curling, eyes squeezing shut, back arching off. Your name came out of him like a prayer. He pulsed and his pace stuttered as warmth coated inside.

Bill collapsed beside you, breathless. Sweat clung to his hair and the raised edges of his scars. His suit was ruffled.

Your freed hands reached to pull down the dress that had gathered around your waist.

“Let me,” he said, sitting up to pull the hem back into place. He took an extra moment to slide your knickers back too. His hands trailed down your legs and slipped off your heels. He threw them on to the floor, his own shoes following a moment later. He stood to pull up his boxers and strip away the rest of his clothes. “Here,” he offered, holding out a shirt he pulled from a drawer. “It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scooted off the bed and reached for the zipper on the dress, but it was out of reach. Bill laughed, standing from where he'd recovered your discarded wand, and came to help. “I should shower,” you said, feeling his release beginning to pool in your knickers.

“Would I be crossing the line if I asked you not to?” You looked at him over your shoulder as he dragged the zipper down. “You smell like me.” He tugged the dress, letting it fall to the floor. “I like that.”

You couldn’t find the right words to respond so you just nodded. With the shirt on, he pulled you back into bed. Unsatisfied, his arm slung around your waist and dragged you flush against him. “Good night, love.”

You’d wake up early and shower then. If anyone saw you leaving the room, you could blame it on Charlie being in your bed. Bill had been nice enough to lend something more comfortable than a dress to sleep in. It would be fine to sleep here in his arms. No one would find out. Maybe it could happen again when Charlie leaves. If Bill wanted it to happen again, that is.

You shut your eyes and nuzzled against him. “Good night, Bill.”

—

You woke with a start, a loud banging rattling your bones and making you jump.

“Oy! Wakey-wa—aaat the fuck?

Next

Before I Knew You Tag List: @believinghurts @frozenwisteria @maralisa124 @voiddylanobrosey @kyla-hale-blog @pearlsofme @minstens @sofrian @sheeple @alldaysdreamers @hotleaf-juice @elnmop @sweetphantomofyournoodler @itshardbeingamultistan @remuslupinscumslutt @thesecretwriter @cali-girl-in-heart @thxtmarvelchick @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @bitch-biblioklept @unstableyetloveable @psamathegoesrawr @camelliaflow3r @undeniablyyou @luciferismybabe @luvrsbian @pink-hufflepuff @queen-of-elves @bountydroid @solkee @m-rae23 @queenofbeingdepressed @smolmexicangirl @manzanosstuff @hungrhay @mae-foster @seb-buckybarnes @idga-fudgeicle

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @benonlinear @byelannie @itsccc @bluegiraffeplushie @pancakefancake

#bill weasley x fem!reader #bill weasley x healer!reader #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley x hufflepuff!reader #bill weasley smut #before i knew you #before i knew you au

[prythiansfavoritefox]

Lucien held the pot carefully, afraid that he might smash it. An irrational fear, but one borne of centuries of disappointments combined with his own failures. It was a lovely pot, glazed in the same pink as the eyes of his lost lover. Orange flames had been painted in a lattice pattern across the pot too. Overall, it was quite lovely artwork.

But Lucien had hated it on sight. His feelings  of hatred had lessened now, but…that pot represented cruelty. It represented a bitter bitter end. Although the pot was not large or filled with bone-crushing weights, it felt awfully heavy in Lucien’s arms.

His eldest brother had given it to him. His first gift in a good century or so. He and Eris had once been thick as thieves; Eris was far more a father to him than Beron had ever been, and his true father had not even been aware of his existence. But Beron had driven them apart. Lucien had seen far too much of Beron in him. He hadn’t truly seen Eris. He hadn’t understood.

He had lost faith in the people close to him so many times that Lucien had not dared to believe better of his brother. That hadn’t ended well for him in the past. 

The pot trembled in Lucien’s hands.

An indigo-gloved hand came to cover his own, steadying the shakiness. Lucien instantly eased up at her comforting touch even through the fabric. 

“Thank you,” Lucien whispered. Elain just squeezed his hand before letting her own slide away so that she could loop her arm through his. “I am here for you always,” she answered. Lucien didn’t have words to express the gratitude within him. Her presence beside him made him feel stronger, and finally, he walked out of the doors of the Forest House.

Thought he abhorred the place, it seemed only fitting to start the journey where it had all ended. And now, it would end in a much better place.

They could just winnow to their intended location, but the journey was important. To remember her. To honor her.

“What is your favorite memory of her?” Elain asked as they strode barefoot through the tall grasses of Autumn. Lucien blinked. “I am not sure you wish to hear of me with somebody else,” he muttered. His mate only smiled, her golden brown hair shimmering in the sun. “I am not threatened by your past, Lucien. I only wish to hear of more times you were happy. Your life is marred by so much trauma…I wish to treasure your joy.”

It was times like these that reminded Lucien that he was not the only charmer in this relationship. Elain Archeron: his mate, his wife, his equal. A seer who also possessed doe-brown eyes that could stare into your soul. 

He thought a moment. What was his favorite memory with the pixie? “When we were dancing at a ball once,” Lucien recalled, “That troublemaker dragged me out of the ball and into a celebration with her community amongst the farmers. She taught me traditional folk dances, brought me to their open market, and took me to one of their live comedy performances on the streets. I picked up some bansuri while helping herd cows too. I can still play; do you want to listen?”

Elain’s lips quirked and her brown eyes sparkled. “Perhaps when we get home, adventurer.” Home. Lucien hadn’t had a real one in a while. He tamped down on the tears knowing that once he started, he would take forever to stop. “As the lady wishes.”

Elain snorted delicately but said nothing. The conversation had been a nice way to pass the time; Lucien hadn’t even noticed that they were already halfway to their destination. 

“I can’t believe Eris actually saved it,” Lucien added after a beat of silence. “I thought…it was lost forever. I have had to live with it for centuries. Not just her death, but…the fact that she wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.” 

“I know,” Elain said quietly. “But nothing that happened was your fault.” Lucien nodded, throat too tight to speak. He knew that now. He’d always known it, but his own self-loathing had prevented him from seeing it. But he had learned to love himself again. Elain was a huge reason for that.

It was so difficult to believe that he was actually here, back in his home, and it was a safe place to be. He savored the crisp Autumn air, the strength that flooded into his veins by being in this court. 

At last they reached their destination: the Phlegethon river. “Don’t touch the water,” Lucien warned his mate as they both knelt before it. “It may look lovely, but it’s not ordinary water. The water is so hot that it feels cold to the touch. At least for those without fireborn immunity.”

Elain blinked. “So…only Autumn Court faeries can touch it?”

“Only Autumn Court gifted High Fae,” Lucien amended. Slowly, he lifted the top of the urn.

His hands shook slightly again. “I am here,” Elain murmured, placing her hand on his shoulder. Lucien closed his eyes, savoring that touch, his one tether to this land. Then he opened his eyes and turned the pot over. Ashes began to pour into the river. Lucien watched as the ashes blended with the water and began to flow downstream.

“Goodbye Jesminda,” Lucien whispered. “May your spirit and soul finally be at peace in the afterlife.”

Lucien could’ve sworn he felt a gentle hand tousle his crimson waves, as Jesminda used to do long ago. Perhaps it was her spirit. Perhaps it was the Mother herself. It felt as though a thousand pounds of steel had just been removed from his chest. At last he could breathe again, live again. He turned to the love of his life, whose arms were already open, waiting for him.

Lucien pulled Elain into his arms and squeezed her tightly, one hand going into her hair, the other firmly on her back. She had come here for him. Had helped him mourn Jesminda. She was his strength, his beacon, his light.

“I love you more than anything,” Lucien whispered against her ear. He felt her smile against him before she pulled away. Elain stood up, green vines twirling around her palms. Lucien watched, transfixed, as she waved her hands and began to form a tree. The trunk was tall and narrow, but what was truly impressive was the branches, covered head-to-toe with seemingly hundreds of drooping lavender flowers. “A wisteria,” Elain  answered his unspoken question. “To mark the spot where Jesminda attained salvation.”

Tears began to well in Lucien’s eyes. Everything- all the pain and suffering had been worth it to find her. He would endure it all again should she be waiting at the end of it all. He was a man of many words, yet there were none pretty enough to describe the depth of his feelings for her, for what she’d just done. “You are my everything,” Lucien said simply. “You are the reason why I wake up every morning, who I dream of when I go sleep. It is you who gave me the courage to walk here today, and you…I cannot imagine anyone more perfect.”

Elain beamed, tears forming in her eyes too. “And I cannot imagine anyone more perfect than you. I am simply returning the kindness you showed me in mourning my father by my side. You need not thank me for this. I would do anything for you.”

Lucien stood up and walked over to her. He picked her up by the waist and spun her out. She squealed delightfully, and Lucien finally placed her down, getting on his knees before her. “I will thank you for this, as I will thank you for every little thing you do, because you deserve the appreciation for all the important work you’ve been doing behind the scenes that never got appreciated. You will never be ignored, or shunted to the side, or underestimated, or coddled. I vow to love you and support you in all of your endeavors forevermore.”

Elain covered her face with her hands and began to sob, and Lucien gently pried her hands off of her face, a small smirk on his face. “I thought I’d be the one crying today, but look at you, bawling your eyes out.” Elain gasped and swatted at him. “You rascal!” Lucien grinned before standing up and giving a mocking bow. “I know not what you speak of, m’lady. I am a perfect gentleman.”

Elain rolled her eyes, and Lucien only laughed and pulled her into an embrace in response. After a long moment, they turned around and began to walk back.

Jesminda would never be forgotten. Her memories would live in the hearts of all those who knew her, including Lucien. He would choose to recall the best of her, the joy and good times they had together, a part of his past that he loved. In doing so, Lucien finally allowed himself to be happy again, to live laugh and love again, to start a new chapter of his life with his mate, Elain Archeron.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #jesminda #fanfic

[myfandomprompts]

Hey, I was wondering how do you think it would go if Aemond fancied a Stark girl? Please and thank you 😊

Prompts - Aemond Targaryen

Hi anon! I'm so sorry it took so much time to respond, feels like ages... I'm slowly getting around answering my asks.😊

I also went out of my way to write this, where it should have been just some opinion about how Aemond would fancy a Stark girl, I took the liberty to create a little story, but don't worry, still prompts and quick to read! Hope it suits you.

First time he sees her is when he is forced to go to Winterfell for an official visit with his father the King. The only thing that made him accept to go up north was the allowed presence of Vhagar, so he could feel less lonely in that unwelcoming terrain.

Aemond had had prejudices about the Northern girls- rough, often ungifted by nature-, but when he sees Cregan’s sister, all of his prejudices fly out of the window. He never cared for gracefulness nor beauty, but when the Stark girl  talks, he can’t seem to form a complete sentence in return in her presence.

To fancy is not a word he would ever have fathom using about women, but when he has to return to King’s Landing, it becomes clear that the meaning of that very word is not strong enough to define what he feels.

He quickly becomes painfully aware of the distance separating them despite the letters they sometimes exchange, and he curses his father to have him meet her in the first place. She is far away, unreachable, becoming a distant memory he only thinly hopes to see again one day.

But then fate places her at Riverrun for two months as she is sent in fosterage to the Tullys, and he can’t believe she is so close.

 But war breaks, and so does his heart when both Stark and Tullys side with the Blacks. 

All he therefore thinks about is taking the Riverlands under the pretense of securing lands for his brother.

When he finally takes Riverrun, she is there. She is not frightened by him, but to his greatest sadness, she remains cold and distant with him.

So he decides to spend many nights laying in the dark next to her silked prison, listening to her breathe, whisper... Until she finally talks, breaking the agonising silence. 

Hearing her speak gives him hope,  and he promises her to take care of her and to reunite her with her family again.

Words he truly believes in…

#usermyfandomprompts #asked and answered #anon ask #aemond tagaryen #aemond targayen x oc #aemond targaryen x stark #stark #prompts #targaryens #vhagar #hotd ep2 #ewan mitchell #hotd #house of the dragon

[takemebacktowheniwassane]

so, let's talk about the chess game a little more thoroughly

in the chess game (from falsettos, idk if that's apparently clear, "a chess game" could literally be anything lol) there's a pattern of impatience that follows the two main characters.

Marvin's impatience is fully one-sided, you can see as Whizzer begins the game, he's insistent for him to get his turn over with, even going so far as to (quite condescendingly) ask if Whizzer wants his help. But then the moment it's his turn, he takes his time despite Whizzer having rushed his first move.

I think this might stem from his constant need to "help", or rather, control every situation. He thinks it's always his job to be the leader of every circumstance, as the stereotypical man.

It definitely comes from a childhood of commanding others around and not having a heavy amount of discipline for his actions.

Otherwise, Marvin taking time to calculate his move shows that he's careful with his own placement in life. A life of tiptoing around himself and never actually accepting the full extent of his personality, or sexuality has made him incredibly courteous of where he stands. Maybe it even came from his relationship with Trina, how not being careful led him to being forced into an arranged marriage.

Meanwhile, (and I know I've gone through this bit before in other posts but yes, thanks, I need more appreciation on William Finn not just victimizing Whizzer. Like, he's not that great either guys. We love him, but he isn't perfect.) Whizzer uses the game as a strategy to get Marvin on his side.

Although instead of healthily sorting through his MASS amount of issues, Whizzer pretty much just ends up manipulating him into throwing the game. It's interesting because Whizzer has an opportunity to discuss all of the problems they have with Marvin.

They're in a place in their relationship where he can clearly just throw anything out there, but then he strikes back with anger instead of trying to actually figure out the main issues and help them both through it, effectively shutting off Marvin's ability to actually listen to anything he has to say.

The chess game was actually staged so perfectly, because you can clearly see all of the toxicity in one contained place during that song. There's obviously snippets in others, Marvin's inability to change and Whizzer's insistence not to change because changing would mean they would have to actually talk about their feelings toward each other.

anyways, these are just my thoughts on this :) none of its fully canon, I was just watching through clips of the proshot and realized some interesting things

#whizzer brown #falsettos #marvinfalsettos #hyperfixating on falsettos #the sillies have taken over my account #HERE YOU GO #HAVE ANOTHER RANT! #anyways if you want more of these on any specific aspect of falsettos I'm down to converse about the insanity that is this show

[slytherinsrule89]

them being your toxic ex!!

Thank you so much for the request!

Tom

It had been a month since you broke up with Tom. He had been way too toxic and unfortunately still is even out of the relationship.

You had just been on a date the week before and got stood up. You didn’t realize until a while later that Tom had hexed him and threatened him to stay away from you.

He even went as far as gaslighting everyone into thinking that you two were still together. Whenever you told people that you weren’t they barely believed you because of how manipulative Tom could be to make them believe him instead.

Blaise

Blaise was selfish to say the least and always was. You had to break up with him because of it. What you hadn’t expected though was for him to get selfish over you.

When you broke up he got about 10x more possessive of you and it showed. He was constantly around you, shoving other people away from you.

You tried and tried to explain to him that you guys were broken up but he never listened. Soon enough barely anyone would stay around you because of Blaise’s selfishness towards you.

Theo

Theo was the type to push boundaries constantly and didn’t care what you had to say about it. That’s what lead to the break up but it didn’t stop.

He interrupted your dates, barged into your dorm a lot and refused to leave unless he actually wanted too.

It was almost a game to him. At least that’s what it seemed like. He enjoyed pushing every little button down and laughed when it made you cry.

Most times when you did start crying and he laughed, he then comforted you, playing a trick on your brain because he’d act like the jerk he really was the next day again.

Mattheo

As much as wish he was, Mattheo wasn’t loyal. He ended up cheating on you which made you break up with him.

Now that you two were broken up he’d have at least two girls with him 24/7, usually always different ones too.

It hurt you because you just wished you could have a normal relationship but of course he thought he was too good to settle down with just one girl and needed as much as he could get to pleasure him.

Enzo

You two had a big argument that ended your relationship. He had a habit of making cruel jokes about you that he didn’t even realize hurt you.

When you’d try to confront him about them he’d constantly play the victim. Telling you that it wasn’t his fault, they were just jokes that didn’t mean anything.

You had told him about how much they hurt you about a thousand times before you were done with it. Unfortunately it only got worse once you two broke up. He’d call you hurtful names just for breaking up with him and twist the whole story around when people asked what had happened.

Hope you enjoy 😊

#slytherin boys #slytherin #:) <33 #tom riddle #blaise zabini #theo nott #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #anon ask #answered asks #toxic ex

[reverieaudios]

Hello!!

Were there any ideas or details about some of the characters that you ended up changing completely? Maybe initially someone was supposed to be more friendly, flirty, sarcastic, or have a completely different family relationship, or a character trait, but further along you changed it because in your head the characters developed differently than you first planned?

YouTube had randomly blessed me with a video about Casey not so long ago, and I binge-watched all of your videos in four days! I was so intrigued by all the stories and characters! Somehow, I started with Casey playlist and ended with Dion, and they ended up being my favorite!

I am sorry for my English! I thought for once I wouldn't let my fear of bad grammar stop me from expressing my gratitude, so thank you very much for everything you've done so far!! I love everything, from the art, to the audio quality, additional sounds and amazing characters! I'm very glad I found your channel!

Thank you!

Have a great day!

The biggest change in any of my characters is probably actually the planned outcome of Gage and his listener's relationship. Originally I was going to have it go in one direction but as their story played out I've decided a different direction would fit better (no spoilers here though lol)

There are also smaller things, like originally Neo and Gage weren't going to interact that much (if I knew they were then I would have made their voices less similar lol) but I liked how they played off each other so now they do. Originally Dion/Kane's listener was actually going to spend much more time at their home alone with Kane after Dion left, but when writing that script it felt right for them to get swept away to the Inferno Dominion lol. So yeah, a lot of the big character traits have been pretty much the same since the planning stage, but a lot of details have shifted as their stories have progressed! Very much one of those "the characters started writing themselves" sorts or things lol

And thank you so much, I'm really happy to hear how much you've enjoyed my work!

#asks #and your english is great dont worry about it! #this made me grin lol thanks again #reverie audios

[readingismyhobby24]

Hello everyone!!! This is the first fic I've ever posted!! I don't know if it's any good, but I had a lot of fun writing it, and it's inspired by real life events too lol.

I had a large battle with a small jumping spider a few nights ago, and I lost, terribly. It did inspire this, so I hope someone will enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. While also completely freaking out about the real life events... Sorry Wars (and Mask), you get to deal with this now 😁

Also, I wanted to thank @crazylittlejester for listening to all my rambles about the spider fight, along with encouraging me to write this fic. Thanks Jes! You're literally the best!!!

Sorry for any mistakes! This was written by me at like 1 am on Saturday, I believe, so yeah... Enjoy!

(clicks post, throws phone, then runs away screaming)

Along Came a Spider

Word count: 1,100

It had been another long, strenuous day out on the battlefield. Link’s body ached and he was so sore, it was hard for him to even make it back to his tent for the night. He was so completely and utterly exhausted.

Link had never been more ready to go to sleep.

He had finally made it back to his tent and he couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh. He walked in to find both his brothers already inside on their cots. Tune was fast asleep and looked like he had been for a while. Mask on the other hand, was wide awake.

“What took you so long?” the boy asked irritatedly. “Everyone else came back hours ago.”

“I got held up to help with battle strategies.” Linked answered quietly, to not wake their other brother.

“Couldn't they have at least let you sleep some first. What person could come up with battle strategies right after they had literally been fighting in one all day?” Mask asked.

“It’s war, Mask,” Link sighed. “We don't have much choice.”

“Well, get some sleep now. You look like you really need it,” the young boy huffed, and without another word, turned away from his brother and closed his eyes.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Link huffed to himself with a small laugh.

After he finally finished getting ready for bed, he went over to the lamp to turn it out. As soon as his hand was about to make contact with the knob, a strange movement caught his eye. Looking down, Link gave out a loud gasp at what he saw.

A small, brown spider was standing directly on the lamp, just above the knob, and looked to be making a web. Link was at a standstill. He so wanted to go to bed, but there was a literal spider on the lamp! He certainly wasn't going to touch it, that's for sure. Maybe he could just turn off the lamp and leave it there? It should still be there in the morning if it was making a web. He could have Wind deal with it tomorrow.

With that in mind, Link slowly lowered his hand to the knob. As soon as his finger touched the knob, the spider, without a moments hesitation, jumped at his hand.

Link screamed and quickly ran to the opposite side of the tent. The two boys who were once asleep in their cots, were quickly awoken at the sound. Both Tune and Mask quickly grabbed their swords, thinking their older brother was in danger.

“What is it?!” Shouted Tune as he quickly made it to his brother's side, Mask not far behind.

“THERE’S A SPIDER!!!! And it tried to jump on my hand!” Link yelled, and pointed, with a shaky hand, over at the lamp.

“A spider?” Tune asked confusedly, while Mask screamed at the same time, “A SPIDER?!?!”

Mask quickly jumped behind his oldest brother and yelled “KILL IT!!! KILL IT!!!”

“I'M NOT TOUCHING IT!!!” Link yelled back to the boy that was literally hanging off of him.

“You're the oldest!”

“Oldest doesn't mean bravest, Mask!”

Tune shook his head. “Oh my gosh, guys. It's just a spider. It's not going to hurt anyone.”

“Have you seen those things?!” Link shouted at Tune.

Tune sighed and headed over to the lamp, but upon looking at it, he found nothing. “Uh, Link. There is no spider over here.”

“What do you mean there isn't a spider over there? I saw it with my own eyes. It literally jumped at me!” Linked yelled exasperatedly.

“Well, there isn't one now,” Tune said as he looked around the lamp.

“Yes there is,” Linked detached himself from Mask and ran over to his other brother.

He looked around for the spider at a distance, and was shocked when he didn't see it. “Oh no. Nononononon. I can't believe we lost it!”

“Link, calm down!” Tune tried to reassure his brother.

“Don't tell me to calm down. We lost a spider!” was the young man’s frantic reply.

Mask, who was still standing behind Link, stiffened. “Ummm. Link…”

“What?”

“Look at your arm..” Mask answered worriedly.

“What about my arm?” Link said. He quickly looked down, and then he too, stiffened.

A loud scream ripped through his throat when he saw the spider running down his arm.

“GET IT OF!!! GETITOFFGETITOFF!! HELP!!!” Linked screamed.

Tune quickly grabbed his brother, trying to get him to calm down. At the same time, another figure burst through the tent, large sword at the ready.

“What is happening?” Exclaimed Impa as she ran over to the three boys, all while Link was still screaming.

“There’s a spider on Link!” Mask exclaimed.

Impa quickly rushed over and grabbed Links arm, quickly swatting the spider off. “I thought someone was being assassinated!”

“Uhhhh, yeah. Sorry about that,” Link smiled sheepishly as he took many deep breaths to calm himself.

“After everything you've been through, everything you’ve fought, and seen, you were screaming over a tiny spider?” Impa asked incredulously.

“How does me, doing any of that, have to do with my fear of spiders?” Link asked back defensively.

“Yeah,” Mask agreed. “Spiders are a whole different category of scary. Don't judge him.”

Impa shook her head, and then quickly scooped up the spider that was now on the ground, and left the tent. What no one noticed was how hard she was trying to keep from laughing at the situation. That was definitely not what she was expecting when she had heard all the commotion.

Back at the tent, Link finally got to sit down in his cot. Letting out a big sigh, he flopped down on the cot. Right before he fell asleep, he heard giggling coming from a different side of the tent.

“You know,” Mask said through his giggles. “I'm sure the entire camp heard you screaming over a tiny spider.”

Link groaned. He did not need to think about that. “If I rember correctly, you were also screaming over said tiny spider.”

“Yeah,” Tune agreed. “You guys also almost succeeded in giving Impa a heart attack.”

“Poor Impa,” Mask said. “She doesn't deserve that. Imagine if Impa died because of us and a tiny spider.”

“Well, no one died from any tiny spiders tonight, so we can thank Hylia for that,” Link joked. “Also, what happened in this tent, stays in the tent. Got it?”

“Yes sir!” Tune saluted.

“Goodnight guys,” Link said.

“Goodnight,” Mask replied.

“Don't let the spiders crawl in your bed tonight,” Tune chuckled mischievously.

“TUNE!!! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!?”

#linked universe warriors #lu warriors #lu mask #lu tune #tw spiders #I ACTUALLY POSTED A FIC!!! #I'M SO PRIUD OF MYSELF!!! #i'm also so terrified though